FrostBite
by BehindTheMasqueradeMask
Summary: "I have many names, but in your books I am mostly associated with being called Jack Frost." What if Jack Frost was a teenager with a temper? What if the first reaper to be created by Death and Jack had a somewhat abusive love/hate relationship? Well, it's real, and Jack is determined to leave her mark. Unfortunately, this captures the attention of two familiar brothers.


**I had this idea in my head a while back, I don't plan on writing more unless people wish to see more. I placed this in the supernatural column as it uses the vampires and reapers, but of people like it I plan on adding Sam and Dean in it with a story.**

**WARNING: I wish to say that the subject is based on the events in Poland in the 1940s, I do not wish to cause any offence or discomfort at the subject, as we have recently gone over the subject in history it's something that should be more acknowledged in the emotional side effects, none of this I in anyway which to cause offence.**

**the idea of Jack Frost I actually got from a children's book I read to death as a child, admittedly the main character of course is a boy, but I wished to switch the idea up in my own original way. The book in question Is called 'The tale of Jack Frost' by David Melling, it's a beautifully illustrated book with a lovely story, one of my most memorable children's story.**

**disclaimer:I only own OCs **

**with all that done, on with the chapter...**

* * *

_Every time we lie awake,_

_After every hit we take,_

_Every feeling that I get,_

_But I haven't missed you yet,_

_Only when I stop to think about it,  
_

_I hate everything about you,  
_

_Why do I love you?_

_I hate everything about you,_

_Why do I love you?_

_Three Days Grace ~ I hate everything about you_

* * *

_Every waking moment I spent running. Unable to pause as I heard distant commands of soldiers, the German language slowly deteriorating into inaudible shouts of loathing as every sharp branch tore at her striped clothing._

_It was shameful, wearing the very same clothes worn by my likely dead brother, it was shameful to know I had abandoned everyone to one fate as I escaped the final barbaric act the soldiers were planning. _

_In truth, everyone knew the final outcome, even before they were forced into the ghettos, before the army of evil marched through Poland and destroyed every ounce of humanity. These were the thoughts that clouded my mind (along with images of strangers who like me had been taken to the camps, most never seeing an end) as I ran through the endless forest; it would be a long time before I met another human being, that is, if I wasn't captured by the soldiers._

_Because if the instincts and fear that told every inch of my being to keep running, I never noticed the trail of frost that was left on the tree trunks, anything I touched with my hands exploded into patches of bitter cold patterns, like ice faces in the bark. But eventually my bare feet began to tire; the thin strands that were called legs shook violently as I collapsed in the arms of a mystic ancient tree, my body unable to hold what little weight I had. Snow collected around my balled up form, my body never feeling the cold of the frost but was unable to fight against the nature's freezing weather, shivering in the tiny ball._

_**Don't find me, please God don't let them find me!**_

_I pleaded in Polish to the being I thought abandoned us, but the critical time caused drastic measures. I cried softly in the little ball, the tiny tears freezing onto my face to create a delicate dazzling pattern on my cheeks. I couldn't care less about delicate, I was alone, afraid and likely wouldn't survive the night. Either the soldiers would find me, or an animal would find me and eat me, or I would just die from a shattered heart._

_**I want my mama...**_

_I weeped internally in more Polish, shivering in the cocoon of the bare oak tree, praying that my prayers would be answered by God or some other kind person left in the world. But as the night drew on...They would never be answered._

* * *

She walked into a scene that was strangely familiar. A male vampire crouched next to an occupied chair. It clearly was alone with just its victim, a lone vampire becoming increasingly common as their nest instinct deteriorated as they evolved, true they didn't change extensively, but evolution happened in every species.

It's brown hair styled in a quiff, a dreadful era of fashion she thought, it wearing _greaser _ clothes that she remembered, the world changing rapidly through her crystal blue eyes.

There was a lust in his eyes that focused on its victim, the lust could have been described into many emotions; sexual, compassion, family also classed as lust, a lust to not be alone.

Due to years spent with Death, she was adapted at being silent, so much that even the vampire didn't notice her entrance. Because of this, she decided to have a bit of fun and forced a smug look onto her face.

"Oi greaser, big bad frosty over here!" She smirked at her own joke, the vampire hastily stretching into a demeaning position, fangs bared at her.

"What are you doing here bitch?" The vampire snarled, warm blood staining his many rows of fangs, the red substance trickling down his emo style clothes. How she despised the abominations, with their animalistic and devious nature, their only senses being the hunger that rifled and boiled inside their blood. She had to admire its courage, after all, not many beings dared to call her such an insult, or it could simply be that it was a moron unable to hold its tongue.

The smirk shifted into a glare of pure loathing, the short period of her _humour _never lasted long.

Her crystal blue eyes stopped glaring disgustingly at the creature, but turned a sorrowful look at its victim. The poor girl was no older than twelve, the creatures blood smeared across her lips. The girl was strapped to a vintage chair by thick layers of rope, head bowed in shame as her long blonde locks hid most of her face, but the diseased blood was easily recognisable on her pale face. She gave out a cry of agony, the hunger quickly taking hold as last eminence of the human girl was severed away by the disease.

She was no longer a poor girl, but a monster waiting to be released.

She glared once again at the vampire, her eyes seeming to glow like moonlight passing through a hanging icicle. True this wasn't her usual job, having more standards than punishing the lower creatures of the supernatural world, but work was lacking as everyone stopped believing.

"You have approximately two seconds to pray to whatever god you worship, then I'm going to shove your ass straight into purgatory." She threatened, taking steady steps forward, never faltering her killer glare.

"One..."

The vampire bared its fangs and growled at her, this one lacking sadistic humour unlike the others she had met, shame, it entertained her before she destroyed them.

"Two..."

The vampire went to smack a fist, a fool's mistake, she instantly grabbed it with her own clenched hand. She squeezed it, finding that the vampire had been paralysed in shock at her quickness. As she squeezed, ice cold crystals radiated from her hand and spilled onto its, a small fog of coldness spreading over the two battling hands.

It retracted its fangs, confusion and fear making it stare into her crystal eyes as it's hand gradually become colder and colder, the ice spreading through his body like a virus.

"What...what are you?" It barely managed to whisper as the ice affected its vocal cord, the rough male voice forced to be heard as a squeaky child.

She simply glared, not a single evil laugh or a sadistic smile creeping onto her face, no, she she wasn't insane or enjoyed the pain of others...though with the creature she could make an exception. She leaned forward, squeezing the now frozen fist tighter, it's legs giving way so he kneeled in front of her.

"Jack...Frost." She replied in an ironic icy tone. She released his frozen hand, having to whip it out of the ice grip, sending crystals all over the floor to melt. With one swift motion she pulled out an ancient but dazzling knife and sliced its head off, the damned thing rolling a couple of metres away as the rest of its body slumped to the floor. Fresh blood splattered over her face, a common ending to most of her visits. She simply wiped it away using her jacket sleeve, not honestly caring but people didn't find a teenager wearing fresh blood normal.

She was about to turn around and leave, but a tiny voice made her stop in her tracks. It was a faint but easily recognisable final wish, with a melancholy sigh, she turned around to face the newly made creature. It could barely lift its head, needing fresh blood to regain strength from its transformation. Nonetheless, the creature pleaded with her.

"Please...make it...stop..." The creature pleaded again, sending an apologetic feeling through her. She honestly wanted to end the creature's suffering, but Death decreed that she didn't need to die, only the creature that had transformed it. Unfortunately, Jack Frost was never one for following orders. She swiftly moved towards the prisoned creature, and hastily sliced its head off, hearing a sigh of relief before she did so.

"I'm going to pay for that, I hope it was worth it creature." She spoke to the still rolling head of the recently changed one. She then left, leaving her trail of corpses behind her...people needed reminding that Jack Frost was real, and so she left a frozen piece of moonlight on a table desk, though this one didn't melt.

She walked purposely down the busy streets of New York, no-one giving her a second glance as they angrily bumped into each other or were oblivious on their mobile phones, speaking louder than needed. She hated cities, too many people in one place never ended well, and she talked from experience.

Death would be sending one of his minions to _punish _her for disobeying, the horseman believing she wasn't worth his time no matter what jobs she did. She liked a few of the reapers, they did the job, they each had their own personality surprisingly. But they weren't great company, not like...

No, he would not enter her mind, not after forty years.

She rounded a corner and slipped silently down a backstreet alleyway, knowing if a reaper would come at least it was away from the prying eyes of humans. However, she despised the narrow box that was supposedly a shortcut to another part of the gigantic city. Enclosed spaces were never her friend, they made her uneasy, a tiny punch in her gut as she didn't want history to repeat itself.

"Jack."

She knew that voice, and for a brief moment joy sparked in her unaccounted for soul. She stopped abruptly, but never turned around to face the owner as it would weaken her immortal legs, weaken her into a sobbing fit.

"You can't run from him...you can't run from me." The owner of the voice stated, but there was a clear pain in the male tone, even if they were trying to mask it.

"I've been running from you my whole life...why should I stop now?" Jack answered back, the stony expression she wore carved onto her face as she twisted around to look at him. He hadn't changed, not at all, but that was to be expected from a reaper. He was unlike the other reapers, he didn't stand on ceremony, wearing a long black coat coat that hid the untidy black jacket and white shirt, the top few buttons undone as always even with the bitter cold (the cold she relished). His relatively long black hair that made him look as if he belonged in some eighteen hundreds movie, eyes that repeatedly tried to gaze into her non-existent soul.

"Why do you fool yourself? If you truly wanted to run away from me...you would have disappeared out of my reach decades ago." He replied wisely, taking steady steps towards her with a sorrowful stance. She masked her anticipation with a maniacal giggle, shaking her head in denial.

"Oh ancient Malachi, even with so many years spent learning human ways and cultures...you're still a complete dumbass when it comes down to knowing their motives and reasonings." She mocked, taking her own steps forward but with a more fake clumsy walk, eyes gleaming with insanity.

"You and I both know you lost your humanity a long time ago _Anastazja_." He replied to the insult calmly, using his own knowledge of the now Jack Frost in an attempt to anger her, she always let her guard down when in a rage. As predicted, her crystal eyes flashed with icy rage, hands clenching into fists with white fog emitting from her knuckles.

"_Don't use that name_." She hissed, her pace towards Malachi quickening to shut the reaper up, but he had plenty more to say on the touchy subject. His lips quirked into an involuntary smirk, he didn't wish to, the subject was barbaric, but the fact he had outstayed her was enough to bring the slightest smirk of victory onto his face.

"The day you escaped from Auschwitz with Nazi soldiers frozen solid for eternity. Or perhaps, even earlier than that...the day the soldiers placed you and your family into a ghetto where starvation and sorrow plagued like a virus." He spat every syllable out, feeling the growing anger radiate from the child that marched towards him, and she was a child again, little Anastajza with painful teardrops escaping her eyes, only to freeze on her cheeks.

"Shut up you heartless bastard!" She screeched, images of smoking towers and the horrific smell of burning flesh flashing behind her glazed eyes, the images like a stab wound to her heart. Without thinking, she pulled a vigorously shaking fist and attempted to punch the reaper straight in the face. However, with the brash act came failure as he quickly blocked the blow with an upward thrust of his arm, not even shaking as she pushed down hard onto the arm.

"When will you learn that you cannot fight me?" He seethed rhetorically, barely straining from the strength of the weeping girl. With quick reflexes he used the arm to whip her fist down, hastily placing his other hand around her throat and spinning her clockwise ninety degrees into the alley wall. She struggled against his powerful grip on her throat, groaning and cursing every horrible word she could think of, even going on to scream things in Polish. But all it was doing was wasting her energy, until eventually she gave up and limply rested on the wall voluntarily, breathing heavily.

"I hate you." She hissed, even baring her teeth to emphasise the statement. He stared blankly for a moment, but then a tight smirk quivered onto his face.

"The feeling is mutual..." He whispered, finally releasing her by stepping back, giving her space "at least half the time anyway." He finished, gazing over her full appearance, after all he hadn't been in close proximity with her thirty odd years.

With a scoff, she rubbed the reddening mark left by his forced hands, but he wasn't at all guilty, he had been much more brutal in the past. He never planned to be, but she was so stubborn and honestly sadistic, and the only way to wake her up would be through abuse, even with how much he would depose himself afterwards.

"What about the other half?" She grumbled sarcastically, unable to leave the damp wall as it kept her stable, the short adrenaline rush subsiding and making her weaker. To her question, his eyes flickered and shone with shame, and as soon as she saw it, she mocked him with a malicious chuckle.

"Please...you're a reaper, you don't know what emotions are let alone love." She sneered, but found that the mockery was in vain as the glow in his eyes disappeared, replaced with a glowering stare.

"Coming from you? The frozen-hearted queen of ice herself?" He said, replicating her jeers to which she played with the strange banter that were usually shared between the two, if they weren't trying to kill each other that is.

"Rather be a queen with no heart than not a queen at all, and anyway, the cruel ones are remembered more." She argued, finding that there was a hidden compliment in his mockery, because she knew the ancient reaper too well. Admittedly she still felt the invisible hand around her throat, but she wouldn't admit to it nearly choking her, she wouldn't let him get the pleasure of proving her weakness.p

"Hardly a queen my dear, more like a narcissistic child who believes the world revolves around her." He said, his voice slightly higher at he spoke with humour, wondering where this sudden humour had come from.

"You're the one that said it first, and there's nothing wrong with thinking yourself first before others, it's how people have survived for centuries." She argued still, ready to prove she would always have the last say. Maybe being the monster she was, deep down, she was just a teenager refusing to let a power hungry army from taking away her childhood, taking away her personality and replacing it with a creature of evil and savagery,

"That I have evidence for." He agreed, remembering when man started to think more logically than the cave man imbeciles they once where, he was carved as the first reaper and this he was able to watch humanity grow into the society it was now, but they had a long way to go to perfection if they could ever reach it.

With a sigh, he raised a delicate hand and attempted to wipe away the frozen tears on Anastajza's, only for Jack to reach the surface and bat it away viciously. He hated the Jack Frost facade she had created for herself, in truth, it was Anastajza he cherished, that was the punishment Death had created for him...he cared about humans.

"Why do you hide behind this character? You could be mystical if you just believed in yourself, believe in other people." He stated with sorrow, seeing how far the broken child in the snow had gone, she had been morphed into a sadistic broken creature.

"The last person I believed in...wouldn't even answer my prayers." She replied softly, likely the softest sentence she had said in decades. He knew exactly who she was talking about, God, the mysterious spectre that so many humans worshipped, and it perplexed him.

"Put faith in someone who is closer, who is willing to listen." He said smoothly, stepping closer to her again, but she didn't push him away. She shook her head in denial as her eyes focused on anything but Malachi, determined to remain frozen and not melt. She hated him, hated the way in a few short minutes he could make the more human aspect she had forgotten pull to the surface, make her weak, and then to use it as an advantage to open up to him. She hated how she fell for it every time, hated how a few decades ago he had shown how far his (supposedly unknown) emotions ranged towards her.

She refused to admit it, she blatantly refused...

Oh fuck it...

With one tug of his coat collar, she pulled him into a fiery kiss with both their eyes closing in unison. She felt his tight smile against her chapped lips, internally cursing herself for being defeated by _him _of all people. But honestly she couldn't care less as the kiss became more passionate, his hands slowly worming their to her waist, pulling her close as her hands trailed to grip around his neck.

She forgot the strange texture of his lips, they were swelteringly hot against her icy cold ones, however the opposite elements fitted perfectly together, creating such ecstasy that they both forgot the insults exchanging moments earlier, forgetting their allocated jobs that had severe punishments if ignored.

Malachi didn't care if Death scolded him for the lack of self-control, he knew his creator would be appalled to know what his prize reaper was doing, especially with such a character as Jack Frost. Her hands tangled in his black hair, gently gripping it like the purring paws of a cat. The comparison amused him, the ice feline he had been training for decades.

They broke away for a moment, simply to catch their breathes as noses touched. Malachi used to time to trail a tongue against the gap between her neck and shoulder, hearing the happy moan that his ears recognised as a purr. He chuckled against her freezing skin, not entirely meaning to, but the light chuckle he couldn't keep in anymore.

"You laugh at a time like this?" She asked breathlessly, trying to hide the pleasure she got from the slow trail his tongue made against her skin.

"At the thought of you being my feline...yes." He decreed, a smile pressing onto his face as he moved towards her cheek bone, ready to catch her lips again. She would have rolled her eyes if they weren't closed, but the irritation was there as she roughly pulled his face to the side, kissing him viciously in an attempt to stop him from talking. But not seconds later he pulled back (although reluctantly) and stepped away from the heated embrace they were once in, teasing her with a smirk.

"You asshole." She growled, heart beat thumping from the make-out session that shouldn't have even happened. He sneered humorously, but desperately wanted to resume in the moment as well, but knew he had used enough of his time.

"I can't help that, I have duties which concern departing human souls. Don't worry, you'll be seeing more of me, I can promise you that." He decreed, disappearing sharply to the destination assigned to him by Death himself, an elderly woman that had suffered a stroke, something immensely dull compared to spending time with the ice feline.

With him finally gone, she exasperated loudly, head resting limply against the wall as she slowed her heart beat. She cursed herself, cursed him, cursed the whole fucked up world. With the blame game over, she quickly cleaned her appearance up a bit, pulling her leather jacket onto her shoulders against from where Malachi's hands had slightly pulled it down to reveal her neck.

She wouldn't hear the end of this, not with how proud and ego-filled Malachi could be. In truth, he would never let her forget the moment of weakness, moment of pure lust for the one creature in the entire world she hated the most. But with that said, there must have been some type of love too, it couldn't purely be frustrated lust, could it?

"Screw you Malachi." She mumbled, storming out of the alleyway into the main packed street again. She didn't have a destination, but she always walked wherever her feet resigned her to go, normally she ended up somewhere where entertainment or a chance to make people remember Jack Frost occurred. Either way, as she walked her mind filled with Malachi, and they wouldn't stop for anything.

* * *

**As said if you would lime to see more, of course review. Malachi is based visually on Michael Fassbender's character Azazeal in the TV show Hex, because I love the style of the character. **

**Bye for now,**

**~Gothgirlstrikesagain**


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